


Just Being

by imdeansgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Road Trips, Unspecified Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 23:12:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4240257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imdeansgirl/pseuds/imdeansgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin never expected to be here in a million years, never expected to be this happy while still being this sad. But Sam’s there.  Kevin shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t want to be here. But he does want to be here, and he is, and that’s all that matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Being

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so i wrote this at like 5 am with a sleep-deprived brain while having a ship fest (about another ship) with a friend, and honestly it's?? it doesn't really have a clear setting or universe (is it canon?? is it au??? we'll never know! imagine it however you want my child) and it's just a drabble about the boys on the road. okay good luck.

The leather seats of the Impala are, characteristically, scorching. It is a summer day after all, and the weather trackers on their phones read ninety degrees. The summer heat is sticky and hot, as it usually is, and the sun is setting off into the distance. (Coincidentally in the direction they’re driving, and Kevin thinks about driving off into the sunset and muffle his laugh into his wrist. The ride into the sunset happy ending is one he’ll never have, never thought he would, and the irony in it is hilarious.) They pass gas stations, and diners, and finally a cheap motel. “Should we stop for the night?”

Kevin glances over to the driver’s side where Sam has taken his eyes off the road, where Sam is looking at him with a kind of naked openness and tiredness that he usually only sees when he looks in the mirror. Where Sam has one hand on the wheel, one hand where Dean’s hand would usually go, and one hand resting on the console between them. Behind him, the sky is orange and yellow and it reflects on his chestnut brown hair, giving him a glowing tinge. He almost looks like an angel, and with all the shit Sam’s been through, that could almost make Kevin laugh. But he still has personality, and kindness, and spirit, and that’s what makes a person angelic. So Kevin just gives him an encouraging smile and shrugs. “If you want to,” he says. Sam gives a shaky nod, and turns left.

The motel Sam pulls into is dingy, but isn’t every motel? The lights on the neon sign are blinking in and out, creating different words depending on which letter’s light had gone out. The sky is orange, and the building is a pale baby blue, making the world’s worst contrasting scenery ever created. They get out of the car, slamming the doors of the car behind them, and head up to the main lobby—if you could even call it that. The “main lobby” is a small room, barely the size of Kevin’s back home—and Kevin had a very, very small room. The man behind the counter looks either sick or drunk. His nose and eyes are red, the bags under his eyes droop over his cheeks, and his hands shake where they rest on the table. “Uh, one room, please,” Sam says as he slides a credit card over the table. Kevin doesn’t know where he got the credit card, or if it’s really his or not, but he decides he doesn’t care. The man takes it and slides it through the machine, and pushes over a room key with a hacking cough and a condescending look. Sam nods, grabs Kevin by the hand, and tugs him back outside.

When they get to the room, they don’t bother with formalities. The routine is the same as it is in every motel they’ve stayed in on this road trip from hell; they toe off their shoes, still hand in hand, and drop their duffle bags off to the side. Sam grips his hand a little harder and tugs him forward until they’re both laying on the bed, their legs tangled together. Sam’s jeans rub against Kevin’s bare calves, and Kevin doesn’t mind any more than Sam does when Kevin’s stubble drags against his skin. And Kevin doesn’t care that Sam’s legs are longer, a little longer, a lot longer than his, or that Sam won’t drink coffee unless he makes it himself, or that Sam still wears that little necklace around his neck with a weird symbol—“For protection,” he says. And Sam doesn’t care that Kevin can’t sleep unless the television is on, or that Kevin taps his fingers when he’s thinking, or leaves the toothpaste uncapped. And neither of them care that they shouldn’t be resting, they should be on the road.

So they just lay there. Kevin sighs a heavy, put-upon sigh, and Sam presses a sweet kiss into his forehead. And God, it should be different, shouldn’t it? Kevin never expected to be here in a million years, never expected to be this happy while still being this sad. He doesn’t remember the last high school friend he called up, or the last time he smiled without a reason to. He shouldn’t be here. But… he’s just so tired. He wants to give up, to throw in the towel, to call it quits. But Sam’s there, with his brain filled to the brim with knowledge like an encyclopedia, and a smile that lights up an entire county, let alone a room. And eyes that shine like whiskey on a summer day, and dimples like caverns. Kevin shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t want to be here. But he does want to be here, and he is, and that’s all that matters. And he is so, so happy that he is.

Sam squeezes his side, mumbles, “You want to sleep?” Kevin sighs again, dips his head to lay on Sam’s shoulder, and nods. It’s been a long day—a long week, a long month, a long year. A long life. He wants nothing more than to sleep—except to forget. He’d like that too. Sam mutters his okay, then stretches over Kevin’s head to grab the remote. He flips on the TV—some random news station, where the newscaster, a pretty blonde woman with a whitened smile and big green eyes, is blabbering on about something that happened in, whoa, whatever state they’re in—and then nestles back in. They’re so content, Kevin thinks, and that means it’s time for something to tip the scales. Something has to go wrong, throw their life out of balance, because when does anything ever go their way? _Never_ , Kevin thinks with a huff of laughter. _Nothing ever goes our way._ He burrows his head deeper into Sam’s neck. For now, though, he’s okay with pretending things can stay like this. He’s okay with this—whatever this is. He closes his eyes and lets the heavy blanket of sleep overcome him. For now, he’s okay just being.


End file.
